Stoner's Boy

by Robert F. Schulkers

  WEDNESDAY.—There has not been a sign of Stoner’s Boy all week. Dick told me today that he was talking to Briggen and the Pelham fellas, and they been watching close all this week, but they haven’t seen Stoner nor the Red Head, and there ain’t been any footprints in the mud on the river bank.

  We had a fine game of ball today for a change. Seems like old times to think that we won’t be bothered by anybody except the Pelhams. And we are used to them; we don’t mind a fight or two with the Pelhams any more. Seems like something is wrong if we don’t have a fuss every week with that bunch.

  THURSDAY.—This afternoon I walked down to the river after our meeting, and saw a Pelham flatboat out in the middle of the river. Briggen and Ham Gardner and Dave Burns were in it. I says, “Had any luck Briggen?”

  He saw me and paddled over to our shore. “Hawkins,” he says, “that Red Head fella was back again.”

  I says, “Where did you see him?”

  He says, “Up there.”

  He pointed up to the cliffs.

  I says, “How do you know it was the Red Head?”

  “Never mind,” says Briggen, “it was him, we know him well enough. He was skippin’ over them rocks up on the cliff like a deer, and he disappeared all of a sudden. I guess him and Stoner’s Boy’s got a hidin’ place up there.”

  I says, “What did he come in, sailboat or launch?”

  Briggen smiled and shook his head. “Neither which one,” he says, “the Red Head didn’t come in a boat or a skiff neither.”

  I says, “How did he come?”

  Briggen laughed. “You tell me that,” he says, “but I’ll tell you one thing for sure, he didn’t come by the river.”

  I says, “Oh I guess he stayed up there. Him and the Stoner fella got a place up there where they can live, and I guess they sneak out to git something to eat.”

  I walked back to the houseboat, thinking purty hard. Dick was waiting for me. “Look, Hawkins,” he says.

  He handed me a sheet of paper.

  “A note,” I says, “from Stoner’s Boy?”

  Dick smiled. “Read it,” he says.

  So I read:

  The same old place Saturday. Don’t make a mistake. Be there at the same time. We will get the big guy, if I don’t give him a licking purty soon, I’ll say I ain’t no good.

  I read it twice. When I looked up, Dick was laughing. “What you make of it?” he asks.

  I says, “It’s Stoner’s writing, where did you find it?”

  “Link dropped it,” he says. “Link had it in his pocket today when he come down, and he lost it.”

  I says, “You ain’t got no right to read Link’s letters, Dick.”

  Dick shook his head and smiled. “Course I ain’t,” he says. “When one of our fellas is helping fellas what are against us, it is up to the captain to find out for himself what is going on.”

  I got sore. I says, “You think Link is a traitor?”

  “What else you make of it?” asks Dick.

  I didn’t answer. I walked to the door. I saw Link coming up the path. I says, “Here he comes, put that note away quick.”

  Dick run over and put the note in back of the chair where Link always sits during meetings. He just finished when Link come up. “Just going?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I said, “me and Dick was just leaving.”

  He stood on the step while we walked down.

  After we had walked up the path a piece I turned. Link had gone inside. I rushed back and peeped through the window. Link was just sticking the note in his pocket. He had a smile on his face, like he was glad he found the note. Finding it by his chair, he kinda figgered out that nobody had seen it, else it wouldn’t a’ been laying there yet. He run out of the houseboat and down to the river. I walked back to Dick and we went up town together.

  “Well,” says Dick, “looks like we caught him with the goods, don’t it?”

  I just nodded my head and walked on. I didn’t have the heart to think it of Link. No sir, not that poor skinny kid. He never was a traitor to nobody. He was just a good hearted fella, as good hearted as a skinny guy could be, and goodness knows he ain’t got much room in his skinny body for a big heart, but he’s got one just the same. I felt bad about that note. I couldn’t reason it out.

  “If I was you, Dick,” I says, “I wouldn’t say nothing to nobody about the note.”

  “Oh I ain’t,” says Dick. “You don’t think I would git that poor kid in bad with Jerry Moore, do you?”

  I looked at Dick. “What you mean?” I asked.

  “Why,” says Dick, “the note said something about giving the big guy a licking, and the big guy in our bunch is—”

  Dick stopped and looked at me.

  “Jerry Moore,” I says, “yes, he is the big guy, I guess. Stoner will lick him some day.”

  We walked on up town together. We didn’t say nothing more to each other till we said goodbye.

  FRIDAY.—Jerry Moore was looking for me today, and as soon as I come down to the houseboat he grabbed me by the arm. “Hawkins,” he says, “you ought to been out last night, there was something doing up on the cliffs.”

  I says, “It don’t supprise me very much. What did you see?”

  “Lights,” says Jerry, “colored lights, signals, that’s what they were.”

  “Well,” I says, “maybe we will see them again tonight.”

  “All right,” he says, “I been kinda worried since I heard them Pelhams say that somebody was layin’ for me to give me a licking.”

  I says, “Oh, did the Pelhams give that out?”

  “Yeah,” says Jerry, “and they know about everything that goes on.”

  “Well,” I says, “meet me tonight at 7 o’clock.”

  So right after supper I struck out for the houseboat. Dick and Jerry were waiting there.

  “Fine,” I says, “glad you got Dick to come.”

  Dick laughed. “It’s fun,” he says, “I’m going to see this thing through.”

  “Listen,” says Jerry, “what’s that?”

  We heard a whirring noise up on the road.

  “It’s a motorcycle,” says Jerry.

  Just then the noise grew louder and something shot past over the upper road. “Goodnight,” I says, “that’s some speeding.”

  “Yeah,” says Jerry, “and I bet that’s Stoner’s Boy.”

  We run up as fast as we could. All we could see down the road was dust, dust that was raised by an automobile or a motorcycle. I says, “It didn’t look like a motorcycle, was too big for that.”

  “Well,” says Jerry, “it ain’t no automobile, that’s sure.”

  We run on down the road. The dust nearly choked us. All of a sudden Jerry stopped. “Look,” he says, “there’s the lights again.”

  We looked toward the river cliffs. High up we saw a red light; it went out while we looked. The next minit a white light was shining in its place. We pushed on down the road. We heard the noise of the machine stop.

  “Go for the lights,” says Jerry, “don’t mind the machine.”

  We started on a shortcut for the place where the cliff climb starts.

  “Stop,” says Dick, “there’s somebody in front of us.”

  We halted, and as we looked we could see the gray figger of Stoner’s Boy, with his cape and broad hat, climbing the rocks. Almost before we knew it he stopped and stooped to raise a wide flat rock. He put his hand under the rock quickly, then drew it back and let the rock fall again. Then he turned and came back on a run.

  Dick pushed Jerry and me down low into the bushes alongside the path. “Keep still,” he says, “don’t try to stop him here.”

  We had just backed into the bushes when the gray figger flew past. We laid low, till we heard the sound of his engine starting. Then I crept back onto the path. Dick and Jerry jumped up in back of me.

  “Get what he put under that rock,” says Dick, “go after it.”

  But even as we started, I saw a dark figger come
out of the shadows of the cliffs and reach for the flat rock and lift it. Before we could get to him, he had dropped the rock and was coming down our path. We stepped out. “Hold on,” says Jerry.

  The runner stopped and gave a sharp cry of surprise. “Good Lord,” I said.

  “WE COULD SEE THE GRAY FIGGER OF STONER”S BOY–CLIMBING THE ROCKS.”

  It was the Skinny Guy, Link.

  I says, “What in namesake are you doing here?”

  “That’ll do,” says Jerry, “we won’t need no explaining. He’s in cahoots with this Stoner’s Boy, and we never knew it.”

  Link showed his teeth. “Take that back,” he said in a low voice. “Take that back, Jerry Moore, or I’ll knock you down.”

  Jerry jumped back in supprise.

  Dick stepped in. “What did you take from that rock?” he asked.

  Link held his hand behind his back and wouldn’t answer. Dick reached back quickly, and took a piece of paper from him. “Ah,” he says, “just what I thought, a note from Stoner’s Boy. Hold your flashlight this way, Hawkins.”

  I held up my light. Dick read the note out loud; here is what it says:

  Why don’t you answer my notes. I write you one every day, and each night I see the same signals up there telling me to give you instructions. Be sure you don’t forget to put up the right signals if everything is ready.

  “Well,” says Dick, “we will take this matter up to tomorrow. Link, you got to be tried for being a traitor to your best friends.”

  Link didn’t answer.

  “Let him go,” says Dick.

  We all stepped aside. Instead of passing, Link turned and run up the cliffs. Jerry started after him, but I held him back.

  “Don’t try to follow him,” I says. “He will show up for his trial tomorrow.”

  We all walked back home together, but no-body had a word to say.

  SATURDAY.—Us boys came down early today, there being no school. Jerry come over and says, “Have you seen Link yet?”

  I shook my head. “Give him time,” I said.

  We had a game of ball in the hollow which lasted till noon. When we came back, Briggen was at the door of the houseboat. “Hello, Hawkins,” he says, “I come to bring you some news.”

  “Bad news, I bet,” says Jerry Moore.

  “Don’t butt in,” says Briggen.

  Jerry almost was ready to fight, but I took Briggen over to one side.

  “Tell me,” I says, “what is it?”

  Briggen took another look at Jerry before he replied. “Link is gone,” he says. “He went up the river this morning with the Red Head.”

  “Ah,” I says, “he will come back.”

  “Maybe,” says Briggen, “but one of us fellas heard some of you guys talking to Link last night about being a traitor.”

  I says, “Briggen, was you spying around the cliffs last night?”

  Briggen waved his hand. “We won’t talk about that,” he says.

  I says, “Dern if you fellas ain’t sneaks.”

  “We won’t talk about that either,” he says, “but I just want you to know that your Skinny Friend ain’t on the level, that’s all.”

  I says, “Goodbye, Briggen.”

  He took the hint, and walked back to the river. I talked it over with Dick.

  “Well,” says Dick, “if he has given us the slip, I am done with Link forever.”

  “Me too,” I says.

  It was evening when we gathered around the houseboat once more. We had our lamps lit, and Lew Hunter played the organ, and we sang some songs.

  While we was singing the door opened, and in come Link, poor old Skinny Link, looking more sorrowful than I ever seen him in my life. We stopped singing at once. Lew stopped the organ. It was so still you could hear a pin drop.

  Then Link shoved the door shut slowly, and said, “You fellas been waiting? You thought maybe I wasn’t going to show up, but here I am.”

  Dick hit the table with his hammer, and we all took our places. “Now,” says Dick, “us fellas are waiting for your say, Link.”

  The Skinny Guy looked like he didn’t have a friend in the world. He walked up to Dick’s seat slow, and turned around.

  Jerry Moore says, “Why was you gettin’ notes from Stoner’s Boy, telling you to show signals on the cliffs?”

  Link looked at Jerry and smiled sadly. “Don’t blame me for what you don’t understand, Jerry,” he says. “I saved you from getting caught tonight, and you would have got one of the worst lickin’s you ever had.”

  Jerry got red in the face. “How,” he asked, “how, who was gonna lick me, I ask you?”

  Link waved his hand. “Sit down,” he says, “and I’ll tell you.”

  “Red Headed Monk Bridges was up in the cave all week. Stoner’s Boy made him stay there and watch us fellas. He wrote notes, but Monk never got the notes, because I got them first. Monk ain’t heard from Stoner all week. I got all the notes, and they are down in my pop’s houseboat. I was bringing Monk something to eat all week. I knew where he was. I talked to him every day to give up Stoner’s Boy, and by golly I made him do it. Today I took him up to Watertown, and got him a job up there in a man’s garden. He won’t come back here with Stoner no more. Monk is going to be a good boy, he told me so.”

  Link stopped talking. It was quiet as a church in that houseboat. Jerry kept looking straight at the Skinny Guy. All of a sudden Dick hit the table with his hammer. “Not guilty,” he says in a loud voice. “Link, you got more good stuff in you than a fella would think, and we ought to thank you for getting the Red Head away from Stoner. Now it won’t be so hard for us to fight him by himself.”

  The fellas gave a cheer.

  Lew Hunter started playing “Dear Old Pal of Mine,” and Dick Ferris started singing it. I took Link’s arm and walked over to Jerry with him. “Jerry,” I says, “us boys might as well join in that song.”

  Which we did.

  CHAPTER 14

  Link Taken Prisoner

  MONDAY.—Us boys held our regular meeting after school today, all the fellas being present. The fellas paid their dime dues, and I collected, and we didn’t have anything else to talk about, so Bill Darby took ’em all out to start a game of ball in the hollow. After I finished writing in my seckatary book, I looked up and saw the Skinny Guy sitting in his place. I says, “What’s the matter, Link, why ain’t you playing ball?” He looked at me worried-like, and he tried to smile.

  “I want to talk with you, Hawkins,” he says, “just as soon as you finish that there writing.”

  I says, “I am finished, Link; tell me what’s on your mind.”

  He looked over and took a look outside; then he closed the door tight. “Listen,” he says, “my life ain’t worth a Chinese dime. That Stoner’s Boy is here looking for me.”

  I says, “What for?”

  He says, “Because I made the Red Head leave him. I know I am gonna git it good and proper now.”

  I says, “How do you know he is here?”

  Link says, “Because I seen him this morning. I was coming back from the fish market. I just sold some fish, and as I come down to my pop’s houseboat I seen some fella peepin’ in the houseboat window. It was Stoner’s Boy.”

  Link looked purty worried when he finished telling that. I says, “Did you follow him?”

  “Yeah,” says Link, “he didn’t see me. I watched him from behind the trees, and I followed him, dodging from one tree to another, and he went up the cliffs.”

  I says, “Why didn’t you follow him till you found where his hiding place was?”

  “I did,” says Link.

  “You mean you know where he stays?” I asked.

  “Sure,” says Link. “I walked as far as I could into the place and couldn’t git no further.”

  I says, “Well, will you take us fellas there?”

  Link laughed. “You bet I will,” he says. “It’s got me how he gits into his hiding place.”

  I says, “I thought you
just told me you went into it?” “I did,” says Link, “but I went so far and no farther, and dern if I can see how any fella can git into Stoner’s real hiding place.”

  I shook my head at Link. “No,” I says, “you are wrong somewhere, Link. If Stoner can get in it, us fellas can, too.”

  “Well,” says Link, “I want to see you do it.”

  I says, “Will we go now?”

  Link looked scared. “No,” he says, “not now. Stoner is there.”

  I says, “We oughtn’t be afraid of him, Link, if we got any spunk at all.”

  “’Course not,” says Link, “but I seen his gun. It’s double-barrel, and he will shoot; he is a dangerous fella, Hawkins.”

  “Well,” I says, “you watch for the time when Stoner is gone, and we will see what his hiding place looks like.”

  Link says, “Suppose he gets me while you fellas are in school?”

  I says, “You’re smart enough for him, Link. Don’t let him trap you.”

  Link says, “I will keep my eyes wide open.”

  “Good boy,” I says.

  TUESDAY.—Before I reached the houseboat this afternoon, Skinny Link met me and come running up to me. “Look at this, Hawkins,” he says. “I told you that Stoner’s Boy was after me.”

  He handed me a dirty, rumpled piece of paper. “Read it,” he says.

  I says, “Where did you find this?”

  He says, “It was tacked on my pop’s houseboat door this morning when I got up.”

  I read the note; it says:

  Well, old skinny bones, you thought you did a smart trick

  when you coaxed Red Head away front me: but never mind,

  you will git paid up for it, and the Red Head won’t be so

  glad either. I am taking my time, but your turn will come.

  After I read it I looked up at Link. He had a face as sour as a lemon. I says, “For the Lord’s sake, Link, you ain’t a’scared of him, are you?”

  He put his hand on my arm. “Hawkins, if you knew that guy like I did you would know how I feel. He can’t be trusted; he hits you in the back, and most times in the dark when you don’t look for him.”

  I says, “Brace up, Link, us boys are with you. You can’t let yourself git cold feet.”